Die In Your Arms
by BrokenWordsOfUnspokenScream
Summary: Set in Mockingjay. This is the very first "Real or Not Real?" moment Peeta shared with Katniss. Not the epilogue, but the one before they entered the Capitol. Written in Peeta's POV with additions of my own. I think you need a tissue nearby, just in case.


**Okay, so this is the scene where they first invented the game "Real or Not Real" for Peeta. The scene where they were just outside the Capitol. I just wanted to write this part on Peeta's POV with additions of my own.**

**I'm very new to writing fan fictions, I'm used to writing poems so pardon me if this is not very well done. I swear on my Hunger Games Collection that I will try my very best to improve.**

**Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: The following is, sadly, not mine, and belongs to the brilliant Suzanne Collins.**

I've been thinking about their offer for hours. But then , who can I trust? Who can I trust to tell me what's real and what's made up? That soldier from 13 said I should trust them because they are my squad. Yeah, right. They're my guards. Guarding me from doing anything that could hurt _her._

Katniss.

Saying her name, even in a whisper, leaves a vile taste in my mouth. She could kill me anytime she wants but oddly enough, she's not doing any of that now except to treat me coldly.

Coldly? Last night was different. She was talking to me in a soothing way which I did not understand. She told me my favorite color. Orange. And when I closed my eyes to imagine it, I was in a roof with her head in my lap and a beautiful sunset bathes her face in shades of orange. The memory must have been real because I could feel the warmth of the sunlight on my skin and a strange feeling within my chest. When she spoke again, I didn't open my eyes but I could hear the pain and longing in her voice.

_You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces._

I thought I was just imagining it, but when I opened my eyes to take a look at her she was scrambling up to leave. But for a brief moment, I managed to catch the look on her face illuminated by the dim light of the camp fire. The expression she was wearing confirmed it. She was in pain.

But why? Why would she be hurting from telling me a bit about myself? Argh, this doesn't add up. I am so confused. I don't know what to do anymore. Is this what my life really is , or is this a nightmare the Capitol made for me just like the doctors say? I have to know, I have to remember. I have to.

I looked across the fire. There is Jackson , the soldier from thirteen, looking at me. I dont see any hate in her eyes, or disgust. A little cautios maybe, but not hate. Okay, so maybe they really do want to help me. After all, she was right. I did warn them about the attack on thirteen although I dont understand why I did. It just felt to be the right thing to do.

Or they could be lying. They are just telling me that they would help me because they want me to trust them so they could kill me later on. After all, they are her pawns. She could be spinning another web of lies to try and kill me.

Wait. That's not right. No. Delly told me that if something confuses me, all I have to do is look inside me and find what feels right. This feels right. Okay, I'll trust them. For now. Besides, what do I have to lose?

"Jackson, will you help me out?"

It's almost noon, and many of the soldiers from my squad are gathered around me. Jackson has deviced a game called "Real or Not Real" to help me determine truth from whatever lie the Capitol made for me. I tell them a memory, or something that I think has happened before and they tell me if its true or a product of imaginations brought by the tracker jacker venom, usually followed by a brief explanation.

Jackson and the other soldiers from thirteen fill me in with the situation about the war. Gale tells me everything I want to know about my old home, District 12. I'm not comfortable talking with him. I feel some kind of anger and envy I cannot explain. I decide I dont like him. Its possible I never have. Because of Katniss. And its possible he never liked me too. Well, I couldn't care less about that. Finnick relays to me about the details of both my Games, as he was a mentor in the first and a fellow tribute in the second.

My exchanges with Katniss were difficult since my greatest confusion surrounds her and it is with her that I usually spend the most time with.

"Your dress during the Victory Tour in District 7, it was green?" I ask.

"Real." she replies. "It was a one-shouldered gown with an intricate looking belt Cinna made."

I nod, because I remember. She is beautiful in anything her stylist makes her wear. No. She's beautiful in anything.

"Velvet. You like velvet. That's the thing you wore in 2." I closed my eyes so I can see the image better. "It was strapless, deep blue in color with diamonds."

"Real"

I can see her in that very dress. Holding my hand and waving at the people while we parade around the square. She's wearing a nervous smile, I don't know why. Only, I remember squeezing her hand and thinking, _I'll keep you safe, just hold on to me and don't let go. _More memories fill my head, and I let them come. They're like warm air lifting away the mist that clouds my sanity.

I open my eyes and continue. "You have a preference for cheese buns."

She smiles a little at this. "Real. You're a great baker. You always made nice buns." For some reason this made her blush and she looked away. But I cant be sure, its dark and the light from the camp fire may be making tricks on my eyes. So I brushed it aside.

"I remember when your mother told me. Since then , I baked them everyday. Everyday." She nods in confirmation. "Our math teacher when we were little was the old and frail man who was never able to remember our names."

She pauses for a moment to think. "Not real. That was our history teacher. Mr. Libo Duncain. Or math teacher was the fat guy called Canwarn Honeyman."

Now its my turn to smile a little. "He was a funny guy. He always went to our bakery to buy the honey wheat bread. I saw him around thirteen."

I looked up and see that she's looking at me intently, with a tiny look of surprise. And hope. Is it because I smiled? This is not good. She shouldn't hope. Not for me.

So I whisper, "I might still kill you, you know."

Something shifts behind her eyes. And then she smiled sadly. She looked at me with tears brimming her eyes and softly whispered, "If I am to die, it would be better to die in your arms than the Capitol's."

". . . . ."

I gasped. Waves and waves of emotion crashed through me. I felt like a knife stabbed me straight to chest and twisted itself, burying deep. But at the same time I feel a warmth spreading, I feel like I'm overcome with joy so profound I would explode.

I didn't notice the tears sliding down my cheeks until she reached over and brushed them away with her thumb. I know I should be afarid, I should cringe away from her touch. But I can't. Instead , I hold her hand and press her palm to my lips, closing my eyes.

"Katniss..." I brokenly whisper. And feel myself slowly drifting to sleep.

Maybe tonight, just maybe, I wont let go of this hand. Because I know, when tomorrow comes , when the sun rises, I'll be wanting her dead again.

~END~

**Oh boy, was that tiring. I really enjoyed making this fanfic. I hope you enjoyed reading it too. I really exerted a lot of effort on this one. Since this fanfic came to me in a dream, and I tend to forget my dreams once I wake up.**

**Reviews will be highly appreciated, but be gentle. Because like Peeta's current state, Im fragile. lol XD**

**Till the next fan fic, and may the odds be ever in your favor.**


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